Woke
by beautifulramblingbrains
Summary: In the middle of corruption, our Leader deviates through a twisted world - and mind. Can he save himself? Does he want to be saved? He isn't playing a heroes game. But something might just grow on him.
1. Chapter 1

Hello.

So... it's been a while. I apologize.

This is a little something different. I hope you enjoy it. :)

All the usual warnings and disclaimers apply.

* * *

Waking up is one of the things I dread the most.

Everything is more painful, and the mind tends to linger in the land of regret; regret about every possible god damn thing. If I let it wander too long, there would be only dust between my hand and the gun in the holster beside my bed. I could reach down, put it into my mouth - so the last thing I taste is my own misery - and pull the trigger. But I don't. I never do.

The air lingers with the mixed smell of smoke and alcohol. Even in my bedroom, while I find it hard to rub the sleep from my face, pushing deep into my eyes, the heaviness of expectations weighs like lead on my shoulders. I'd passed out with my uniform still intact, a normal routine that could be classed as almost a habit by now.

Questioning at what point did my life take such a turn is pointless and I ignore it - a dry mouth and a foggy head tend to do that.

I'm not alone in my bed. Being slightly aware of the silhouette under the covers, I see my flies laying low. Though, I'm not too bothered. I'd be surprised if I even got it up as a bottle of whiskey currently curdles my stomach.

I step over the devastation - a bottle, a shirt, which is not mine, papers with a list of names. Heading for the door, I peer out to the living area. It's as I expected, both couches occupied. My mate, Jimmy, is down on the floor with a jacket under his head for a pillow. It looks harmless; they all look harmless, and I wonder how men like this change for the sake of advantage and points.

We don't have to do what we do, but we do it anyway. And there is no chance of backing out. Frank made sure of that. I'm hitting twenty-seven, but to youngsters like this, a promise of good times, no struggle, and women are irresistible.

And that's what all of this is, right? A good time? - That's life. That's how it should be.

Wrong.

It's wrong when your priorities change for the sake of a faux brotherhood. When the only way out is at the hands of Frank. When the motto isn't faction before blood, but us before them.

In my haze I make it to the bathroom and rub a speck of dried blood from my cheek in the bathroom mirror, feeling like I could retch at any minute. It's not my blood. I didn't shoot them. But I may as well have, as, like the others, I took a step back and let Frank deal the final blows with a hungry, crazed look on his face until the man's head was nothing but pulp and his wife's screams blew my eardrums.

"Sick motherfucker," Jimmy, our newest and youngest member, had whispered to me. He was white as a sheet, jaw swinging, praying to some God that he doesn't get sent straight to Hell for all the bad things he's done.

All I could think in that moment was _that this was all over antibiotics and few measly points that weren't coughed up in time_. But the man's name was on the list, and if their name is on the list, then they're already dead.

And while I'm being honest with myself, if they're on the list - if Frank doesn't do it - I will. That, admittedly, is becoming hard. Especially as I try to face myself in the mirror.

Shrugging off my jacket and stripping off the musty shirt that smells like yesterday's mistakes, I'm interrupted. "Yo, Eric." It's Heath and I barely acknowledge him, turning on the tap and putting my head under the water. He looks like death himself, and if I was in a better state of mind I would almost believe he had come to collect me. "You got anything to eat?" The water feels glorious and I rinse my mouth out.

"Go to your own damn place and eat," I grumble, flipping him off.

He shrugs off from the doorframe. "Fuck you, man."

"You're not my type." The water drips down onto my chest, the coldness reminding me that I'm still alive for one more wretched day. I catch a glimpse of a result from my own stupidity - a pink jagged line and rub my shoulder, the everlasting result from a break in my collarbone that leaves me with a persistent ache and a bad temper.

I open the mirror, for inside is an array of shelves and my painkillers; the beginning of my lifetime agreement to abide by the rules - and to the list.

* * *

Every morning is a briefing that requires me, Frank, Max and a few others who invest their time in training and running Dauntless. And every morning it's the same loathsome shambles as it was the day before. I enter the room and every head turns to see me. Somehow, I've managed to fake normality, a shower fixing most of my woes, the smell no longer stuck to me.

"Well, if it ain't the boy." Frank's sitting with a specific smile planted on his face, slack back in a chair on my left facing towards everyone else. He manages to pull off the burden of our lives without a single trace of evidence from the night before. It's almost inhuman. With his jet black hair slicked back, his long trademark trench coat still on, I could beat him off his chair. "And he looks mighty beautiful, don't he guys?" He laughs a laugh I sometimes hear in my dreams.

Max is never impressed with him, and he's not afraid to show it; his jaw tense, boring holes into him from across the room. "Let's just get this done, shall we? I don't want to have to explain to a class that their Leaders were testing each other for points on flattery before breakfast."

"It's always a pleasure with you." Frank gyrates in his chair, motioning for him to continue with a long exaggerated sweep of his hand. I take a seat next to him and rub my shoulder. I'm not in the mood for fighting words, not yet.

"We have a few days left on the batch of initiates we've had for the last six weeks. We keep the pressure on regardless of what we already know about who's passing and who ain't." Max gets up and walks over to a whiteboard that has names on that I don't even recognize. But it's all the same shit. We've done this a million times. I've done this since I became a Leader and Frank way before me. "These names are who is passing, split into groups into what section will be given to them after the ceremony…" Max's voice drones on as Frank hits my leg.

"Make sure this afternoon is clear," he speaks in a whisper. My eyes would be the only give away that I'm listening while Frank sniffs and leans on his legs, hunched over. "I got a list. And there are a few initial warnings for our little scandalous debtors."

I look to Max again only briefly, kind of jealous that he isn't involved in anything we do. "Who's to go?"

Frank's eyes are as dark as his hair, his teeth blindingly white when he chuckles. "You, me, Jimmy, Heath, Leroy-"

I sigh in exasperation, Leroy is my least favorite person. We don't read the same lines from the same page, and he licks Frank's ass, ready to attack anyone that doesn't take the same viewpoint as them. The thing is, I see different to Frank all the time, and I'm not afraid to say so. What annoys me most though, is that Leroy will be whispering treacherous things afterward - some of which Frank laughs off with me like it's all fun and games. But I don't like people who talk shit like a little bitch while my backs turned. He's not in my click, and it's safe to say I don't trust him as far as I could throw him.

"Leroy can stay in the car." I bite back to stop myself from further insulting him, or wasting my air.

"Come on, man." Frank taps my leg. I don't like being touched in the mornings, my frown almost painful. "He's just learning the ways of our brotherhood. Look, he's been good to me so far. I trust him."

"I don't."

"Who _do_ you trust? That's a pretty hard fucking question," he scoffs, but it's heavy.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back. "If he stays out of my way, we aren't going to have a problem. But he makes it perfectly clear he likes to step on my toes."

I was just about to reminisce about the last person who did such a thing but Frank beats me to it. "Shit. Just don't go all fucking terminator on him like the last one. That was messy to clean up."

"You're one to talk," I smirk over my shoulder, just as Frank fakes his arm as robotic and grabs his throat, pretending to throttle himself, the letters spelling HATE across his fingers prominently showing on that hand.

He laughs too loudly, reaching into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it carelessly. It's only after he's done it that he looks up to the others in the room staring at him, a burning of hatred flashing across Max's face. "Can you not smoke in the boardroom?" Max asks into the silence.

Frank takes a long drag and lets the smoke billow out in curls before he replies, "We do this every damn morning. Everyone knows what they are doing." Max doesn't let it go by continuing to glare, and I keep myself expressionless. There's a tip of the iceberg between these two and what lies beneath isn't going to be pretty once it melts. "Excuse me." Frank drops the cigarette on the floor and stubs it out with his boot. "I thought this was a room full of Leaders, not the granny knitting patrol discussing who's going to pick up the next grandpa. Why don't you cut us a little slack and let us just get on for the day?"

Max has puffed up to twice the size and I know some murderous thoughts wander through his mind. I'd be a fool to think Frank doesn't see it too. "Maybe you should be standing up here instead?"

"Jeez, I'm flattered. And I'd like that. But unfortunately, you are still alive." Frank smiles. "But you know, since we're all rather tired, I'm just going to be the first and exit this shit show. You call me if you need me now." Frank stands up and dusts his pants off. "Eric?"

For the sake of Max being my trainer, I hesitate. But I know I've got things to do. "I'll watch my emails," I say, standing up and following Frank out the door. Beyond it, our small group waits, and Frank makes a display of greeting each of them enthusiastically. I nod to Leroy without a word, and Jimmy comes to stand beside me.

"That man in there is a dead man!" Frank announces. He walks ahead, turning every now and then, trench coat flapping behind him. "I'll see to it."

"Thanks for letting me crash at your place," Jimmy says to me over Frank still swearing revenge.

"You crashed on the floor, don't thank me for nothing." The boy's still new to it all and I can't blame him for remembering something his mother taught him. "Jim, you stick with me later."

"Sure."

There's nothing to him, he's not built like us. I don't know why Frank has allowed him into the circle and I'm highly suspicious. I should trust this group, I should. But I'm smart, and it's only a matter of time until someone clashes with the other or one wants out. I have a feeling Jimmy is going to be asking to leave as quickly as he came. And I think Frank knows it too.

Leroy turns back and looks at Jimmy, and I don't like it. He's unafraid to meet my eye, and just by staring straight back at him, I let him know that I'm watching him.

* * *

My class is ready. They are trained. They fight orderly. No one gives up until they give in. The women are as good as the men, and I don't have to do as much work as I did before. Most of the time I linger back, pacing, and judge for the sake of fights that only break out in anger - which most of them don't anymore, they are beyond that. This is my individual class that has got me on the relatively good side of Max beyond the irritation that Frank gives him. I'm still respectful because he was my trainer, but I outgrew him years ago.

And between those multiple discrepancies, it keeps anyone off my back and free to do pretty much as I please. I drew a fine line under my class management years ago, using different techniques for punishment rather than the infamously rumored 'dangle over the chasm'. I was young, the same time that I fell into Frank's group after my injury had healed, which I earned trying to fight drunk at the bar.

But reality is still hard. Years of self-inflicted abuse fuck with my mind. I could be watching my initiates train and my brain would freeze frame in jumpy pictures and disassociate as I stood there. It was like a train, pummeling from in the distance. I could sense it coming - for a long time before it arrives.

It gives me a bad case of the shakes. And it reaches far into lunchtime where it peaks. I take a seat on one of the many tables, clenching and unclenching my fists, anxious of the crowds pouring in, the voices too loud, my knee jack-hammering under the table. I pop a painkiller dry like my life depended on it.

Sex, money, drugs, loyalty - it's all passed around like the common cold. There is nothing nobody holds dear that they aren't willing to give to get what they want.

Sometimes I wish a comet will just fall from the sky and burn us all into oblivion. We deserve it. Or maybe, I alone do. But I'm not hesitant on taking everyone with me.

I walk out to find Frank perched on a wall in the Pit, random people surrounding him, trying to get a nose in. Heath is closest to me when I step into the circle and nudges me. "You okay, man?"

"Dandy." Maybe I'm not pulling it off as well as I think I am.

"Eric!" Frank calls and motions for others to get closer. From here in, he speaks quietly. "The deal is, ladies and gentlemen, that we are leaving at Five. We have about seven house calls for a premier warning. After that, we know the deal. We take two cars. Abnegation and Candor is our sweepstake tonight. Place your bets."

"Abnegation," I say immediately. Candor does nothing for my patience. "Jimmy's with me."

"Interesting," Frank hums. "Well, I'm with Eric, Leroy's with me. That leaves you, Heath, to gather the rest and go to Candor. Can I rely on you?"

"Totally," Heath says in awe. "I got this." He gets patted on the back and looks like Christmas has come early.

"Keep your head cool."

Through it all, I see Leroy staring at me out the corner of my eye. And with my mood slowly dissipating, I turn to him. "What the fuck's your problem?"

"I'm wondering if you've got a stiff one for the young'un." He smiles and shows a set of teeth, the front two chipped.

"I got a stiff fist for your face-" I grumble. But before I either of us can get at each other, Frank jumps up and steps between us.

"Boys, boys, this is our fucking brotherhood, that we, yes _we_ , have brought up to speed." He grabs my shoulder and squeezes hard. "We will go down like a pile of shit on a slope if we start going off at each other." I can barely hear him, my fists curled at my sides, counting to ten as Leroy continues to smile. "You like the lives you got, right? You don't want that to change?" The others agree and answer but I only glance at Frank, his eyes passing judgment on me quickly. "Right?" he asks again.

Everything screams for me to defy, but I'm also a terribly good liar, and certainly don't want the advantage of my painkillers taken away. "Right." I hardly sound convincing, imaging myself snapping back his hand so fast that it splits the bone. I comfort myself with my father's voice from years ago: _never hate your enemies, it affects your judgment_ , then his smile as he ruffed up my hair and added, _but make sure you have a good time riling them_. When my lips rise to form a smirk, Leroy's expression falters, but it satisfies Frank.

"Good. I'll meet you outside at five, no later." The group shifts to move off but Frank holds me back. "Eric, can we talk for a minute?"

"I've voiced my opinion and that asshole. You know what I think."

He waits until we are alone, putting an arm on my shoulder and guides us back towards where he was sitting previously. "This animosity has to stop, for the sake of the group. They get a sniff there is a divide, it spells trouble. People start taking sides."

We stare at each other for a moment. "Is there sides?" I ask. "Sorry, if I'm a little defensive that I hardly know the guy and yet he keeps talking at me, over me, and not to me. And the others see it too. Who's place did they crash at last night? Mine!"

"Leroy has a good relationship with Erudite. He pulled through for us. He got the stock in and the cover we need so we don't get our asses handed to us by Max."

"It's just all a little convenient." Like me, Leroy deflected from Erudite. He's been in Dauntless for three years but only recently went to Frank in the last few months to see if there was an opening. The checks I've run say he has no relations and no dependents in Dauntless, so it can't be for the benefits.

"Jesus, Eric!" Frank throws his arm up in the air. "There's always a fucking problem."

"Because I think before I act," I point out, saying the words slowly. "Last night was unacceptable."

Frank grins, then says, "Don't tell me you've gone soft." My shoulder begins to throb and I roll it out, turning my head towards a bunch of overly loud teens. He licks his lips and moves closer. "You are the only one who gives it to me straight, no sugar-coating. Don't tell me I'm losing that boy?"

"You wanna tell me the plans you have for Max? Or is that between just you and Leroy now?"

Frank laughs lightly. It turns into a hum and he looks up far to the glass ceiling above us. "Who am I trying to fool? I merely wanted it to be a surprise." Not answering, he continues, "There is a shift in hierarchy. Max and his group of goons are losing it. Every interaction comes from Jeanine first, through us." He pulls out his cigarettes and offers me one, which I take gladly. "We have more info on each faction by our visitations. We know what's going down way before Max, and hell, the factionless have put in a plea for our medicinal meanderings." He cups a hand and lights his cigarette, lighting mine on the same stroke.

"Taking on the factionless is a wasted thought. They have no loyalty to anything."

"What if, we can make them have a loyalty, through us. That the last word on whether points or favors that don't get paid are still reinforced with no intervention from… whatever the fuck is the policing they abide by because they sure as hell don't give two damns about Dauntless."

I sigh heavily, flexing the quake in my hand and state the obvious, "You've already broached it."

"Mrs. Queen Bee likes the idea. It gives a strategic advantage. And better yet, in the future, there may be no rebellion or snotty little mix-ups Dauntless have to get involved in and waste our fucking time over. But it's to be all hush-hush. Factions won't like it." He takes a long drag. "I wanted time to think it through and of course, I wanted to ease the idea onto you." Frank chuckles. "But it seems you know me all too well."

"And yet, you don't want to hear what I say about Leroy?"

Holding the cigarette between his teeth, he lifts his shirt. "Why we didn't crash at yours last night," he explains, a bandage over a wound which I assume was from a knife. Ash drops down onto his leg and he dusts it off. "You walked in on my cameo after I got dug out by the man. Leroy was there. You weren't. I got sloppy." Shaking my head, I don't know what to think. But Frank seems to be on an epiphany and can't see beyond his nose. "This gets bigger, I want you and Leroy tight. We front this thing."

"We are already fronting this."

"Your pain, it still there?" Frank asks out of the blue. He'd seen me earlier no doubt. By not answering it speaks the truth. "We make this bigger and better. We make it official. We take Max off the high-horse and from chewing our asses, our medical bills are cleared and we get to run this piss poor fucking rubble. Hard work pays off."

"We are dealers and debt collectors."

"And Mary was a virgin and birthed a baby. We all lie." He stands up, rubbing his forehead quickly. "Think about it. I'll give you some time, a few days. You're still with me, man, aren't you? You're my number two. You've been there for me."

He knows he can't make this all work without my influence. _The_ Eric Coulter, the once epitome of Dauntless, a leader the moment I passed my initiation, the face people will accept easier if Max suddenly disappeared. Flicking my cigarette, I meet him straight in the eye. "I'm told first."

Who am I kidding? Power is why I joined Dauntless. If I lose that sense, I'm going to lose myself.

Frank's giddy with laughter, growling as he claps my shoulder. "I fucking knew it. You fucking had me there. You fucking little…" he trails off, nodding his head for me to follow him.

* * *

I stare off down the street to a lone lamppost in the Abnegation street, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on my leg. The car is smoky from Frank puffing in the back, Leroy next to him, and Jimmy barely taking up the passenger seat next to me. It's the hit of the evening and it's still early. There is always one that can never chalk up in time.

I'm busy chewing my lip when I hear Leroy roll his window down and throw something out. "The kid does this one," he says gruffly like acid is burning his throat.

"Interesting choice. What do you say, Jim?" Frank taps the back of his chair.

My eyes briefly flick towards Jimmy as he turns, holding the seat belt. "What? You want me to-"

"It's the house directly in front of the lamppost, you can't miss it," Leroy insists. Jimmy looks to me but I turn away. "You're not pussying out on us now, are you?"

"No. I just didn't think I'd be going in alone."

"You're not," I say, glancing in the rearview mirror. "We'll be behind you."

"Well, I don't know about you, but a stiff drink is calling me. So, whenever you two decide…" Frank trails off, opening his door. "Lead the way, Jimmy, there's a good boy."

Jimmy hasn't lead a hit yet. This will be his first. I know, and they know, that he's the worst physically and mentally of our group, let alone being the newest and only viewing the late-night meet and greets from a distance.

"The house... by the lamppost?" Jimmy asks unsurely, pushing a hand through his hair and his breath curdling in the air quicker than the rest of us.

"Yeah," Leroy says, leaning on the car and flicking his hand when we all look to him. "Some Mr. Gordon. Late payment. Ignored the premier warning. He pays now with points or with his life. You know the drill." He pulls out a drink in a small flask and downs some before Frank snatches it off him.

Jimmy is panicking internally, his face paling considerably even in the patchy moonlight. "Just get it done," I hiss, grabbing his gun from his holster and shoving it into his trembling hands. "Confirm who he is, _before_ you pull the trigger."

Jimmy nods slowly, then takes a quick stride towards the house, a wheeze of laughter sounding off behind from Frank. Instead, those two stand by the car with their flask, still chuckling, and I take it upon myself to follow to at least make sure he gets it right. I'm not a fan of sitting out here for the rest of the night.

My eyes automatically close in exasperation when Jim holds the gun up the moment the front door opens and somebody screams. "You've had your premier warning!" Jimmy's uncertain voice is anything but authoritative. He moves inside the door and I follow quickly behind, closing it. "You have to pay!"

There's an old man on his knees, hands held up in mercy, a younger girl clutching to him, all in their fucking pajamas.

"We-we don't have anything to pay!" he begs, erratically glancing between us.

There's movement on the stairs; an older woman that has Jim throwing his gun around like he's lost the plot. "Keep it steady," I demand from behind him, but I don't think he can hear me.

"You can't pay, you die. Now's your chance!" he shouts like a lunatic.

"We don't-" I'm not prepared for the gunshot that rings in my ears. It takes me by surprise, but it's no surprise to see that Jim didn't hit where he intended to. There's screaming and sobbing from everywhere and we've no doubt woken the whole neighborhood. Blood spills out of the man's hand from where he tried to defend himself. In slow motion, I see Jim take aim again, firing a second shot but this time somewhere in the old man's stomach, sending him backward and into the arms of the young girl.

"Jim!" I knock his gun away, disarming him. He's managed to fuck it up, just like we all knew he would. I steel my face to make my point, and ask calmly, "Is he Mr. Gordon?"

The old woman rushes down the stairs, arms flailing, "No! He's not! They live across the street! What have you done!?" Between the chanting pieces of abuse and blame, I find Jimmy over my shoulder. "Why did you shoot him?!" the old woman demands, filling his silence perfectly, and asking the question I want to.

Jimmy's shaking his head, backing off as the man begins gasping, tensing up while breathing his last, the wound gushing as he bleeds out. "Congratulations, you just killed an innocent man," my voice is steady, regardless of the mayhem around us.

"It was a mistake!"

I unclip my gun, shoot three shots without a pause, and holster it. "Make sure it's only them in the house." My eyes are still locked on the three bodies now slumped in front of me. Jimmy peels up the steps and I crouch down next to the young girl, rubbing a hand over my face slowly. She could only be sixteen at most.

That train, it's coming. That rhythmic beat flooding every one of my senses.

"No one," Jimmy breathlessly replies as he stumbles back down. I stand up, Jimmy following me out the front door. "Eric?" he says my name maybe in an attempt to stop me or talk to me. But I don't respond.

Frank and Leroy watch us approach, stopping whatever conversation they were just having. My chest hits Leroy's as we come face to face. "House directly outside the lamppost, huh? That's what you said."

He puts his hand on top of the car door to steady himself and I turn away as if my anger had got the better of me. "My bad. Abnegation doesn't exactly have house numbers on them now, do th-" I boot the door and it bounces off him, jarring his hand, and Frank grabs me, pulling me away.

"I'll see to it that he gets this written up as a factionless incident," he holds both my shoulders steady. "You listening?"

"I'm not working with him again."

"It was a mistake," he tells me.

"Funny, because that was what Jimmy was saying when he shot an innocent man by accident." I shove him away but he comes right back, holding me steadfast, gritting his teeth together.

"And when did you start to care for the innocent? Huh? Bullshit, Eric. Bullshit!"

"Do you know what, get the fuck off me…" Pushing him away, Frank shakes his head. "Get in the car." Jimmy's still gawping at us and as I pass I slap him upside the head - hard. "Get in the car, idiot."

Leroy is still gripping his wrist and Frank gestures for him to get in without a word; just a shrug - a knowing shrug.

That train has hit the station; that anger that I can never seem to control, the one Frank likes to mock, rears its ugly head. Frank sparks up a cigarette and I turn on them, "Mr. Gordon has paid his debt," I say affirmatively.

"Bullshit," Frank calls.

"He's paid his debt, every morning waking up to a family wiped out over his own doing. His debt is paid. Jimmy doesn't make a hit again." The car revs loudly as it starts, my foot on the pedal to skid us back around towards Dauntless.

"Easy there, boy," Frank says, watching through the back window until we are straight again. "Someone might say you're trying to get one of us killed."

"Out of this car, I could pick quite easily."

Jimmy has been looking into his lap the entire time, only moving to grab the side of his seat as the car takes a corner sharply. "Eric, I'm sorry, man."

"Don't talk to me."

"I mean it, I'm sor-" He's cut off as I lash out sloppily, hitting him wherever, his hands guarding his face.

"Fucking sorry, huh? You're sorry?" Finally, I land a hit to his face and split his lip. He's like a whimpering child and I can't even bear to look at him. In my mind's eye I see myself turning the wheel too sharply and rolling this bitch; maybe wrap us around a tree or an old building, or if we're lucky, hit head-on and go up in flames. They always say fire is the best way to vanquish evil.

Dauntless open up the gates without question in the parking lot, and when the engine dies, Jimmy and Leroy almost jump out. But Frank leans up from behind, grips my shoulder in one hand, and holds a small paperlike square on the tip of his finger in the other. "I don't want that," I say. The high I was feeling earlier is gone, leaving nothing but a heaviness.

"You don't want it, but I think you need it." He keeps the little dissolvable, sweet paper presented to me. "Go live the Dream for the night. Feel nothing."

The letter D imprinted on the paper is tempting me. It could almost be a D for Dauntless. In my contemplation, the inside lights die in the vehicle and it's the darkness that grips a hold, forcing me to choose. I take it from him, hearing him exit the car, and put the paper in my mouth, feeling it dissolve instantly.

* * *

I wake up in a sweat, sitting bolt upright in my bed, fully clothed, and alone. I'm not sure of the night; to what extent or where it had ended or who with. But I remember Max. I remember the disappointed look he gave me; lowering his head and brows furrowed - flashes of different surroundings.

"You said you'd check your emails," his voice is echoing while I rub my face in the morbid morning, trying to put the pieces together. I know I was in the Pit. Heath was there. Frank with some girl in the corner. "Have you taken something?"

"No," I say into my bedroom, but hear it faintly in the back of my mind.

"I think it's time you went home."

"I am home," I say, but Max shakes his head.

"Check your emails."

As the dream fizzles out, my shoulder brings me back to the now, and I rush up for the bathroom. I open my door a crack and I'm surprised to see Jimmy on the couch this time and no one else. We must have put that shit behind us.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I pull it out to scroll through the messages. Random missed calls, multiple emails, a lone message Frank had sent branding me a dickhead. The latest one is from Max, saying I should get to his office _now_.

I'm still studying the message, trying to figure out why he'd need me so urgently. "Jimmy! Get up and get out!" My voice is off, dry like I spent all night shouting.

Just an ordinary night, then.

* * *

Max's office is not what anyone would imagine from a Leader of Dauntless. Hell, I don't even visit my own - if at all, for days on end. It's bright apart from a section of a neighboring building being the view from the window. His desk is clean, files organized precisely, and the most amusing thing - classical music on a low volume. My skin is still buzzing from a freezing shower, and I roam inside, my hands are pocketed, using the back of my boot to let the door close slowly behind me. He smiles, for what it's worth, and then motions me to the bucket seat in front of his desk. "Coffee?" he asks. From this display of polystyrene cups and a brewed pot of coffee, I know he's been waiting for me.

I express a grand smile for him only, casually dropping into the seat. "What's all this about?"

"Did you check your emails, or were you too busy having fun yesterday?" We stare at each other for a minute while I try to process what he knows. "Apparently there was a factionless robbery-gone-wrong last night. You know much about it?"

"First time I've heard," I successfully feint sincerity.

Again with his condescending grin, leaning forward to pour out two coffees. "I'll update you when I have all the facts."

"Thanks," I say, taking my coffee, checking it before I sip it.

"I'm not one to lace a coffee, Eric, you know me."

"Shall we just cut to the chase? Morning meeting starts in half an hour."

Max leans back and drums the desk. "I've got a proposition for you."

Rolling my eyes, I down a fair amount, letting it burn my tongue. "I'm not interested."

"Why? You got too much to do?" The silence after says everything and nothing at all. Eventually, his face softens to one I can recall from when I was a teenager. "What the fuck you doing? Where did all that spruce that you had get up and leave - at what point? Is it the job, Dauntless, a relationship I don't know about? Did you get fooled by a girl-"

"I didn't come here for a psych analysis. I thought you may have needed me for something a little bit more important, you know. And besides that, it's none of your goddamn business."

"Despite the fact that I'm head of command, this involves you, whether you like it or not. Where your interest lies - for the good of the factions, is being called continuously into question. It's a headache I am beginning to get tired of. Did I make the wrong choice to put you forward all those years ago to watch you go off and spit it back in my face? What would your dad say-"

I crush the empty cup feeling like he's just dug the knife in and twisted. "Don't you fucking talk about my dad."

"Why? People never want to talk when there is guilt involved... You feel guilty? Is that what plays on your mind?"

No words escape me apart from a scoff. My will to retaliate against the old heartfelt, cold grip of family ties lays placid. Yes, if that is the answer he is looking for, guilt is one of the things I feel. He had expectations of me for staying on in Erudite, taking over his life-long work of faction cohabitation, to see the in-depth point of view many miss as to why the factions work, why everyone needs a place, and to spend my life writing about it like he did. But I didn't do that. I told him Erudite wasn't for me, and though he was disappointed, he sat down and explained the good I could do with such a steady head and a constant drive to firmly get my point across. To make it work, even if it was in Dauntless.

And on that cold December fifth, while waiting at the station to meet me - a train I never took because I was too busy with my head up my ass - Coulter senior was struck with a sudden heart attack there and then, and died alone, cold, perhaps suddenly, but who is to say? The fact is, he is dead, and maybe he wouldn't be if I'd taken just a little time out and went to meet him.

"He was a good friend of mine," Max breaks the trance I've been sat in for I don't know how long. My posture is terrible, I look downtrodden, but the moment he wheels himself closer to the desk and sits upright, I mirror him, holding my head high. "The world works in mysterious ways. It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."

I could have sent a message, I could have called, there is a lot of things I could have done.

"And in some ways, you are exactly like him. That stubbornness. You want to know how I met him?" Max asks. I don't know how they knew each other, I've just known Max most of my life, and more so when he became my trainer. "He was trying to get a personal account from the factionless. Surrounded by them as we pulled up. Must have ruffled some feathers. He'd gone in alone with an audio recorder and a notepad and pen. I asked him what the hell he was doing and what he thought he was going to do if they turned on him. Do you know what he said?"

"Kill them with words?" His voice is the one I hear when I say it.

Max only nods, gripping his hands together on the desk. "Look, I called you here because Amity have an inspection they were hoping for me to participate in. I can't be there, and I can't send just anybody to represent Dauntless. If you read any of your father's work, he talks about reliable, known faces and presence consistency. His books are my guide."

"You want me to go to Amity to write up a report?"

"It has to be precise. State the sources you use. Your conclusion. Amity is off the beaten track and not much is ever provided informatically or timely, that's why it's important. ...You look like you could do with the country air anyway."

"Is that your sweet way of telling me I look like shit?" I ask, a smirk tugging at my lips because it is no lie. My class coming up to the finals do not directly need me to watch over them anymore, they will all pass. And Frank always talked about broaching Amity. But with their herbs and home remedies, the interest and distance have always been a bother.

"Well, I didn't wanna say, but some vitamin D could do you some good…" He begins laughing loudly with its signature rasp. "Your pale ass is looking whiter than a white man's bare butt cheek."

"Get the fuck out of here," I say as I stand up, feeling incredibly lighter than I did before, but worse in my sense of confliction with loyalty. Turning to Max, remembering mine and Frank's previous conversation the moment I meet his eye, for a split second, my mouth almost begins moving before I can think it through, wanting to mention something; a warning of some type. But then that disloyalty is on me because I know and without a prompt, I wouldn't have mentioned a word.

In fact, it's the first proper thought I've had over it. And it couldn't have come at a worse time after just speaking with him so personally. He's right, it is guilt.

"Oh, hold on," Max says, reaching down to a drawer and pulling a book out that looks well-read and dropped a couple of times. "Why don't you take this and read it? It was your dad's first ever copy of it. I know it well. You should have it."

It's hard-backed and in a navy blue cover, Michael Coulter printed on the bind. I pick it up and feel the weight of it in my hand. "By the way, the young kid, Jimmy, I'll be taking him with me."

"No problem," Max says while picking up the phone on his desk and putting it to his ear. "You have an hour before your departure. Two days to get a summary together. Don't worry about the granny meeting this morning."

"This doesn't mean I'll be picking up every Amity-Adventure-Pack from here on out. I'm not being alone in this." He's smiling at me but is too busy talking down the phone to reply. Once I'm out in the hall and close his door, I breathe in a lungful of air. I better find Jimmy and pack some shit.

* * *

I find out later that I'm not driving, nor is Max allowing a truck to rest at Amity for the length that I'm there. Maybe he's afraid I'll hightail it as soon as I feel like it. I sure do now more than I did before.

Jimmy is next to me keeping quiet, a reluctance to go that seeps off him. But I try to focus on the task at hand while gripping the handle of my holdall with all my possessions. We know we hit Amity when the road widens, turns to dirt, and there isn't the usual rubble of the buildings. Whatever was left in this part of Chicago had been torn down and reused by these folks. On some of the houses out from the center of Amity - holding cows in pens and I can practically smell the shit in the air without a window being open - I can see parts that have been reused on the structures, parts that don't blend in and stick out.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" Jimmy mumbles, staring ahead of us as we come hurdling in our truck straight for some brave cock strutting in front of us.

"To get hit by a Dauntless truck," I humor him, just on time for the thump under the wheel. Not driving and being a passenger makes me nauseous, but I can't bring myself to open the window, opting to run a hand down my face while it's still clean.

It's about eleven at the latest, and for our arrival, a lot of the Amity people have gathered along with a small squadron that lives out here and swaps over every two weeks. Though, there has been no hostility or problems like there has been around the other factions and their presence seems useless. Amity like to keep to themselves. Johanna is the representative of this faction by the people's vote, but her voice is not the only voice that has to be heard on any decision, but it may as well be.

Everything is too bright, too joyous, the sun shining warmly, not like the grey feeling Dauntless seems to cast. There are carts and horses, women carrying firewood in baskets, and children running down the tracks. I feel Jimmy's stare on me. "I've never been to Amity before," he says but not sourly, it's like he's enjoying the view.

"Trust me, in a few hours you're going to be wanting to leave." Throwing the cab door open I drop down, straight into a fucking puddle. Lifting my foot to view the damage, Jimmy almost bumps into me. I grab his arm and pull him back from wandering forwards. "Get the bags." He huffs and turns, shouldering mine and his.

"There was a storm last night," a voice says, an old man with greying hair and a beard, his clothes loose and flapping in the slight breeze with a smile on his face. His eyes are dark while he watches the truck unload, the former squadron packing their stuff on board. It's always two birds with one stone with Max. "Johanna's dealing with some laws of the land but will be with us shortly. I'll take you to where you are staying in the meantime." He steps forward and holds out a hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Coulter. Amity welcomes you."

I grip his hand firmly and shake it with Jimmy as my witness over my shoulder. "We'll only be under your feet for two days. Today being one of them."

"I hope your stay is as pleasant as possible," he says, motioning a hand for us to follow. "Only good weather is predicted from here on out. Seems you brought the sunshine with you."

I make a face at Jimmy who smirks and follow him. We stopped the truck just down the track from the classic dome glass building that represents Amity. The long wooden structure of the stables and offices merged together on my left, further in the distance. Between the trees, the path is winding and offset to what I assume is living quarters. The old man stops by the nearest cabins that are opposite each other, covered by trees, ones that I can't help but look up to as the leaves sway high above us.

"Keeps it cool in the summer," the man explains. "And covers us in the winter."

"Practical," I hear myself say quietly.

"How rude, I'm Joe. You'll find me around. If you need anything."

The cabins have their own dark wooden porch, basic infrastructure, and I dread what is inside. "Keys?"

Joe laughs. "What on Earth for? They are both open."

Staring after him when he begins to walk away, I look to Jimmy who hands me my holdall. Without a word, I step up to one of the cabins, the wood creaking underfoot, bowing and distorting, and I wonder how old it is - or whether I'm about to fall through. It's a simple hooked doorhandle and it opens up to a studio type room; small sink and counters for the kitchen below the window, a bed on the right made-up. The lamp is on beside it.

I stand in this compact space, loathing the seconds being in it. But what I can appreciate is the silence. There is nothing. But it's a lighter nothing to what I feel in Dauntless. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and put my elbows on my knees, peering down to my bag. Tugging on the zip, the first thing I see is my father's book inside, the navy cover and his name in print staring up at me.

I pick it up and open it, viewing the contents. There is a section at the end of the book about Amity, which I flick to.

 _The Amity way of life. Broken down easily by stepping one foot onto the overturned soil. It is not power or hierarchy that they value, nor tend to have any interest in said subject. It is just living._

Biting my lip and leaning back, I'm not in the mood to read further. I check my phone instead, seeing a missed call from Frank a few hours ago after I messaged him that I wouldn't be around for a few days. The moment I see it is the moment the signal goes. Could have expected as much. _No signal,_ I type, sending it, hoping he will get it when the reception comes back.

* * *

Johanna has a section of her office on the first floor over the barn with a long wooden table - a poor effort to the boardrooms at Dauntless, but at least nobody smokes here. It's warm and stuffy, smelling like pine with a fire lit on the furthest side of the room. Johanna's wrapping up a conversation she'd brought to the meeting, conveniently set over lunchtime.

While Jimmy tugs at the collar of his uniform, plates of food offerings are set in front of us. I ignore them, scowling at Johanna's ignorance to leave us lingering for so long. She catches me watching and waves off the woman hanging over her shoulder.

"I apologize, Eric. It's been a rather…" she side-eyes the woman. "Torturous morning." At least she has a sense of humor. "Max was too busy to attend, I see. When you see him tell him I said hello."

"It's an inspection, but that doesn't mean we are expecting any other additional treatment. Normal everyday life can continue as is, otherwise, the assessment is misinterpreted. I'll write up a report and be out of your way by tomorrow afternoon." Licking my thumb, I flick through some notes in front of me. "It does mean I need access to everything."

"Nothing is locked so your access is already granted." She smiles at me when I frown upwards, her bangles on stubby arms hitting the table in front of her.

"About that-" I begin, but I'm interrupted by a bowl of fucking strawberries being placed beside me. "That's already an issue. It's hardly safe. Trust in your people can only go so far."

Joe is here, placed to her side, and he sighs to himself.

"It's been this way for many years. I will not change it now."

"Either way, it's going in the report," I shrug. "I'll need access to stock, law, initiate quotas… the works. But I already suggest a reassessment on security. It would be good to prepare."

Jimmy's eating next to me, Johanna even divulging herself. I begin to get the feeling I'm in the canteen and not in a provisional meeting. "What's ours is yours, I have every faith in Dauntless," she says.

I'm offered cold meats on a tray and wave them off. I'm losing my patience. "Is there anything you'd like to say now before I begin?"

"Oh, yes…" Johanna licks her fingers. "We had a group of factionless come by. We fed and watered them and sent them on their way. It didn't go down in one of the files, so…"

I'm offered something to drink, this time turning to show my displeasure but stop when I see henna tattoos along the woman's arms serving me. "Why?" I ask, my question sounding off as I watch her round to Jimmy.

"They were a very poor looking group. There was no threat. And it was hardly a good use of the Dauntless soldiers time chasing after them," Johanna says. I'm caught watching the woman because she looks up at me from serving Jim. Not one to look away first, I wait until she does.

Kicking my legs out under the desk, I try my best to realign my thoughts _and_ bite my tongue. "Did it not occur to you that this could have been a potential risk?"

"It occurs to me that Dauntless despise the factionless and don't like time wasters." Johanna smiles so sweetly, I think she's beginning to mock me and I narrow my eyes for good measure, words burning in my throat. "But I can get a report for you if you need it."

"I don't like being misinformed."

"You also don't like strawberries." The bowl is taken from beside me by the same woman I spied before, a smile on her lips.

"Eric, we wouldn't mislead you knowingly or on purpose. It's not how Amity works…" Johanna drones on while I watch the woman with the long red skirt down to her ankles, a midriff from a small white top, shoulder-length hair hanging limp. I'm hardly being subtle and neither is she because her hazel eyes find mine again. Jimmy taps me and I realize that Johanna is staring blankly at me.

"Don't let it happen again." I sit up and sip my water. "It makes it difficult when it shouldn't have to be." I'm not making sense. I don't even know if that is what she was expecting me to say. "We done here?" Jimmy gestures sarcastically to all the food left on his plate while I see the girl slip out the back, and I stand up, patting his shoulder. "You finish your food."

"Mr. Coulter," Johanna half-stands on my exit, a confused glance around the room on maybe why I'm hurrying so quickly.

The door brings me to a flight of stairs, and peering over the banister I just catch a glimpse of red. The stairs lead down to the ground floor, a waiter's exit and entrance with a path leading to the dome. But she hasn't gone that way, instead, I find her refilling a jug of water on the adjacent wall of a makeshift counter and sink with food that hasn't been served yet. The bowl of strawberries is beside her and I stroll up quietly and pluck one out.

"It's rude to assume."

She tenses up, but other than that she continues. "A man showing no interest in food has more troubles enough to fill his plate."

"That's still assuming," I say, mirth in my voice by how she won't show her face to me. I may be in Amity, but a guy still needs something to do here, and by the looks of her...

Shutting off the tap, she turns, holding the jug. "Good day, Mr. Coulter."

Maybe I was wrong? I keep her cornered so she can't get past without spilling her bounty. "It's Eric. But you know who I am, don't you?"

"Yes. Were you assuming I didn't?" She smiles back at me and I scoff, dropping my chin and pocketing my hands, suddenly feeling like I have never spoken to a girl before as my confidence dwindles. In reality, I've never had to try very hard, and they have certainly never been so deflecting. It annoys me that I have misread the signals, forgetting I was in Amity and not in the Pit's playground. I've been in Dauntless too long. "Can I help you with something? Are you lost perhaps?"

"No," I breathe and step aside for her to pass. Maybe I am troubled? Too troubled to even hold an enticing conversation. What could I even bring to the table for someone to be interested in me other than my name or title? It angers me that I can't express myself beyond the dark cloud hanging over my head. I now even look like a fool, watching her skirt sway when she reaches the stairs. I drop my eyes, squeezing my shoulder that begins throbbing and then eat the strawberry. But she stops before the partition of wall and I don't feign my surprise.

"It's Fleur." She passes judgment on me in an instant through a long look. She is the definition of the word reluctant. "My name... is Fleur."

"Meaning flower?"

Her smile is weaker this time and she averts her eyes elsewhere. I wonder if she regrets telling me. The first ebbings of paranoia begin to dot my skin at the back of my neck. "Something like that," she mumbles.

"La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel." I begin to wonder if she can hear the shake in my voice that claims my hands.

"I…" she sighs quickly to herself and tilts her head, shifting from one foot to the other. "I don't speak French."

"No, of course not... It's a dead language," I shrug it off. She forces her lips to form a pathetic attempt at a sheepish grin that spells 'fuck off' politely and then disappears up the steps. It is the last time I'll try my hand. She may as well have shot me.

The aftershock sure feels like she had, and as I turn, leaning on the counter, I pull out my painkillers. Swallowing them dry, it takes a few minutes for the fog to clear in my head. Eventually, I pick myself up, straightening my spine, and head out for the first evaluation at the dome, alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello :)

Thank you for reading, and commenting, and supporting, and the list is endless.

I get that these chapters are REALLY long. I'm not sorry. Enjoy :)

* * *

Impractical. It's probably the fifth time I've noted the structure as impractical. Trees grow freely, and the tree inside the dome already reaches the very top of the domed ceiling. Dangerous, I scribble to accompany my list of impracticalities.

I'm not as poetic as my father, it appears.

Looking around me, nobody cares that I'm here. They have permanent smiles and greet each other in passing like it's the best day of their lives. Free love goes a long way. It's notable by the many children clambering about the place.

It's like taking a step back in time - before the dinosaurs.

"Mr. Coulter." I recognize this voice, it's Joe, and I turn my head over my shoulder to acknowledge him. "Johanna sent me to give you these. Initiate quotas, list of recent emergencies... I think there is a crime record in there too, though, it's not very big. There are other records in her office that she hasn't had time to put together." He shifts through some laminated folders until he finds what he's looking for. "Ah, here it is. It's actually quite interesting for me, but for you, I'd hardly find anything troublesome."

I spot Johanna exiting the barn at last in the distance, Jimmy not far behind. A bird flies overhead that captures my attention, and when I look back, I see the flailing red skirt. I step a little closer to him and keep my voice low. "Joe, what's her story?"

It takes him a minute to catch up, following my eyeline until he sees her. "Ah, yes, Fleur. An assistant of Johanna's by choice. A good worker. Far more hours than the average."

"The average woman or man?" My voice is distant.

"Both," he tells me and I take a moment to frown at him. "Why?"

"She might be a good person for me to talk to."

"Oh." He seems disappointed. "You know, I work closely with Johanna more often than not, too?"

"Everything you have said or done is going into the report, Joe." My smile is forced, but he seems happy enough. "Now, if you don't mind. I only have one and a half days left to study an entire faction." He crosses his arms and stands with me for a long time not realizing I've dismissed him. When he catches me, he drops his stance, and motions that he's going elsewhere. I have every faith he will blab to her that I made an inquiry.

I'll study the faction on foot, take my notes, and begin writing an official document tonight.

* * *

The ease to write comes to me by the time the sky begins to darken and I find myself half invested into it beside me while I eat. It's back in the dome that the Amity folk cram themselves inside to keep warm and share food between each other; families and single members alike. Regardless of the sunshine in the day, the night is cool.

There is a small band playing old instruments in the corner quietly, and I'm fully aware of the darkness of mine and Jimmy's clothes along with a small squadron standing out in the array of cream and orange.

I find eating easier by now. I'm used to this place. And Jimmy doesn't seem to be at all bothered, stuffing as much food in his face as possible. "Try the bread," I goad him, chuckling to myself when he doesn't bat an eyelid and takes some from the middle. Between the tables there are servers taking finished plates, replacing food. It's easy to forget our world in a place like this. But I'm like a dog with a bone. I didn't realize how deep rejection had hit because I spend one-third of my time scanning the tables.

If she was here, what would I even do? Talk to her? - Most likely not. Apologise for being so bumbling before? - No. Explain how it would be incredible if she would take her clothes off for me? That may have worked one time before when I was twenty, but not now. The memory makes me cringe enough as it is. And besides, this is not Dauntless, and I am nothing but a forgettable face.

I haven't been interested in sexual encounters for so long that this time it's slightly thrown me. Usually, it's kind of a convenience; something I fell into, or on. But she didn't even particularly show she was interested and I wonder if that's why I'm so irritated. She was only polite because I am a Leader of another faction. Fleur, it's a dumb name anyway.

"...come with us tonight, we'll show you around," a charismatic soldier speaks mainly to Jimmy, filtering into my thoughts.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he laughs, and the table seems to be on in some joke. I just stay quiet and sip my water. "Few cabins round here get lively at night. It's all that peace serum. Peace in the woods. Peace in the fields…"

"Eric?" Jimmy asks. "What you doing after?"

"I've got work to do." I wipe my mouth and stand up, claiming my exit.

"You're going to miss dessert," he says, but the guy next to him squeezes his shoulder.

"There's enough dessert to go around."

Scoffing, I pick up my notes and make my exit without looking back.

* * *

There is something therapeutic about viewing my own writing. Usually, everything is computer based; emails and the like. But in my own handwriting, it's a sense of accomplishment.

Putting an arm over my head, I sigh back on the limp pillows, drawing the pen up to bite it. As therapeutic as it is, my mind is racing. I glance at my father's book beside me, under the hue of the orange lamp. This time of night I wouldn't be in bed. I'd be in the Pit, with Frank, or in my apartment throwing back the nearest concoction.

If they could see me now - legs up, jacket off, pen in hand - they would think something is wrong with me.

The thought forces me to my feet, groaning for the sake of my shoulders persistence. I change into my sweats and gym shoes and prepare myself to take on the unpredictable Amity footpaths.

At first, my pace is slow but with time my muscles begin to give way to the point I'm hammering the paths, between the trees, my own breathing and heart pulsing in my ears. I want to feel the burn. I want to feel the pain.

I push myself to go faster until I'm wheezing, to the point of my body's refusal. And it all happens at once. My breath catching the cool night air, my chest tight, my shoulder screaming, I stop suddenly and bend down, grimacing to myself.

Maybe that's what my jumbled thoughts were, a pent-up energy. Running in Amity freely sure beats concrete in Dauntless.

Rubbing my face of the sweat that threatens to drip into my eyes, I put my hands on my hips and breathe in deeply, staring up to what appears to be lifeless cabins bar the one or two with the lights still on. Some I can see clearly into, some just brightly lit curtains. And upon my stroll back, I make random scenarios of what the families are doing inside.

I'm drawing my walk home out for the fact that I have nothing to go back to and what lies waiting for me at Dauntless will be careening back to me the moment I'm home in the afternoon. I'm lost here, like a limbo, nobody to bother me. And I don't know whether it is a good or bad thing to be left alone with a swirling brain like mine.

Even in the midst of pure moonlight, in the dark - a favorite hour of mine - my sense of purpose is questionable.

A flash of light catches me off-guard; a room being lit up, and I miss my step, frowning until the realization hits me of who I'm watching. Looking to the ground, I contemplate moving on, pocketing my hands like I've been caught, though it is merely a coincidence.

But in the mirror of her small room, she doesn't see me as she stares at herself in the reflection, mousy hair draped over her shoulders which she pulls to one side to brush through. Fleur's face is anything other than impressed by what she sees, kind of sad, like the impression she gave with her shifty behavior earlier. Standing back and gripping the bottom of her white top, she lifts it in a practiced fashion to show her bare back to me, her front exposed in the mirror, braless, and my lamenting scoff to myself is purposely victorious.

Should I knock and tell her I can see her, that the whole neighborhood could? - Maybe she doesn't care. Checking around me, everything is deadly quiet, not a soul. If I stand here and watch, does that make me creepy or lustful, or plain lucky?

She unzips the side of her skirt and it falls away from her hips, her hands going to the top of her underwear. Whether it's only in my mind or not, but it's painstakingly slow, watching the material drag down her skin.

"It's nice to meet you," I whisper to myself.

Smirking, I back away, finding the path back to my cabin. My goal is to have that. My mind's made up.

* * *

Jimmy's about to knock but I throw the door open, his hand still caught in the air. "Goodmorning," I say, quite cheerily, him rightfully frowning at me. He looks a mess. An obviously late night. I roam over his attire critically. "Sort your uniform out." My shoulder hits his as I pass, and I can hear him stumbling behind me to keep up. "You're on stock intake this morning. You need to go to the warehouses and get the annual turnover of produce for me."

"There's like twenty?"

My smile is anything but pleasant. "Good thing we're starting early... And there is fifteen. Overhaul is stored at the other faction's warehouses."

"Where are you going? How will I find you after?"

"I'll be around." A group of Amity pass in their bright clothes. "I'm not exactly hard to miss."

Eyeing up Johanna's long barn just pass the dome, my practical head is on top form. Just from a look, Jimmy knows to be on his way, and I march across the dirt still slightly damp from the cooler night.

There is no one inside, the place open to anyone who might be even slightly interested. As a start, I head for the main office. Of course, everything is above the stables, so I take the textured steps up, surveying the open landing and all the rooms filtering off into sections. Down the hall I can see the door open to the makeshift boardroom we were in yesterday and it gives me a better sense of the layout.

Off the large landing, I spy Johanna's room, open with only glass walls and multiple blurred lines that are _pointless_ for privacy. There are drawers upon drawers and one metal filing cabinet.

This is going to take me the best part of the day.

* * *

By eleven, there are voices traveling towards me. In the meantime, I've been enthusiastically pulling apart her office. When Johanna appears, I welcome her to the devastation. If she is unhappy, she hides it well. Though, any man could see her eyes drifting around, thinking how the fuck she was going to put this place back together.

Concentrating back to the papers in my hand, my overall discoveries are hardly troubling, more irritating. "I'm ready to visit the holding cells. I have reason to believe they are going to be in a lackluster condition as not fucking _once_ have you filed any criminal activity apart from random names. And some of the dates are missing." Holding up the paper, a second part of it drops down haggardly. "And, taking a guess, it's about a hundred years old. It pains me to think of what condition the infirmary is in." It's also quite clear Max has done a piss poor job in the past - which I scribble down as a reminder.

"Usually our mishaps are very lowkey."

"Doesn't matter," I say sharply, lifting my head to movement. Fleur glances at me, standing just behind Johanna, but I look away feigning disinterest. "Now, the holding cells?" I insist to which Johanna purses her lips. It's obvious she was not expecting to find me here, not just yet, and not like this. "Is there a problem?"

"Erm, well, no… It's just, between eleven and twelve I deal with simple law of the land and community problems. I'm expecting a visit any minute."

Bingo. I knew as much from yesterday. "No problem. Shall we?" I gesture to Fleur with a tilt of my head. She holds my eyes for a second, then nods and looks towards the floor, turning on her heel. Just as I get to Johanna I stop. "I'm sorry about the mess."

Johanna forces a smile. "No worries."

* * *

When Fleur stops in front of me in the small lobby of the holding cells, her hands ball into fists as I approach from behind and purposefully brush past her. "What the hell is this?" I burst out upon eyeing the holding area, which consists of literally three square rooms and bars like something out of an old cowboy movie. They are all empty, gathering dust. There is even a hole in the roof beaming in sunlight and exposing particles in the air.

"Johanna doesn't like to keep anyone in here for more than a few hours, if at all. It's... _inhumane_." I forgot the sound of her voice, soft but listless.

"Right…" I sigh. "This needs to be rectified. With no authority _at all_ , it spells fucking trouble." Grabbing one of the bars, I wiggle it, hearing it swirl in the concrete. "How do you think she'd feel if Dauntless took over the policing completely? A more permanent arrangement?"

"Probably relieved? She can blame Dauntless for the hospitality then."

Smirking, I turn to look over at her. She wears red again today, this time a simple dress with it tied in at her waist. There are remnants of a fringe she has grown out, lighter parts in her hair that catch. With her in a light-hearted mood, I'm going to try my luck. "Listen," my voice comes out like velvet, leaning up against the nearest wall. She's been watching me roaming over her attire and hasn't moved a muscle, which can only be seen as a good sign. "I have got to admit something." Her expression never falters - unreadable. "I was jogging late last night... and I got a nice little surprise show from you in return."

"Welcome to Amity," she says unenthusiastically. She's not embarrassed, she's not scared, she's nothing other than bland.

I try a different tactic. "Why do I get the expression you hate me and despise the ground I walk on?"

Shrugging, she strolls over to an old desk, black with dirt apart from a few old handprints, and skims a finger across. Her lips rise ever so slightly as she scoffs, " I don't hate you. I just don't know you."

Weird, as Amity seem to be all about meet-and-greets. "We could change that," I say, taking a step closer.

"I think you have far too much work to be taking part in getting to know me."

"I'm a great multi-tasker." Only my boots scuff along the ground, and she turns when I get up close.

She has 'come get me' eyes, long eyelashes that seem to sweep when she blinks or avoids my gaze - like what she is doing right now. "You were watching me?" she asks curiously after a pause.

"It was hard not to."

"Careful, Dauntless aren't supposed to show weaknesses. Is a lack of restraint your weakness?"

She's testing me, I can see it. Using that little womanly innocence she has to dare to ask such questions. "I admit, at times I'm impulsive. But that's few and far between. You were hardly shy last night. If you didn't want to be watched then you would have made sure to shut your curtains."

"If you are expecting me to take my clothes off for you, I'm sorry, but you are going to be greatly disappointed, Mr. Coulter."

"Worth a try…" That was risky on my behalf, but I like the way she finally smiles to herself, slightly blushing, hardly expecting my reply.

"You are _so_ confident…"

"Kind of comes with the job. I would apologize, but I don't see what for."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." She bites her lip, and in my third eye, I see myself ripping at her pretty red dress and bending her over the old desk in here. But I resist, using my 'restraint'.

Fleur breathes in suddenly and moves away, breaking whatever had begun to shift between us. "We should head to the infirmary… to be finished before twelve."

"Lead the way," I gesture. At least I'll have a nice view on the journey.

* * *

"We prefer traditional methods and ailments. The older generation are convinced they don't need the help of Erudite supplying them. Our treatments work to an extent," Fleur tells me. "For the treatment they _do_ need - which isn't available freely - they usually get aid from their families or neighbors to be able to afford it. And if you hadn't noticed, Amity tend to have big families and a 'what's mine is yours' attitude."

"You speak like you're not from Amity yourself?"

Fleur crosses her arms and stops in the corridor of the infirmary, gazing into one of the rooms. "This is my faction. I chose this faction."

"Did I touch a nerve?" I ask, looking up from my notepad.

"No, I'm over it. My family abandoned me the moment I chose." She looks to me then smiles gravely. "Did you want to see any other rooms while you're here?"

"What's your original faction?"

"It's been so long it doesn't matter," she says quietly. "There are surgery rooms further down if you wanted to check them out. As you can see it's not in the same state as the holding cells."

She takes a step but I grab her arm and snarl, "I asked you a question."

"My chosen faction is my faction. Whatever _was_ is forgotten and I intend on keeping it that way." Uncurling my hand the moment she gazes down at it, she gathers her composure. "What would you like to do?" I frown at her in confusion and she says, "...It is lunchtime."

There is something compelling about her. Perhaps it's the inner strength she has - the coldness, the mystery. Perhaps it's because she doesn't show any fear and hardly cowers at all, not even when my mood shifts unpredictably to the ways I act out in Dauntless.

"Have lunch with me?" The question tumbles out, so unlike me. But away from Dauntless, my senses have unwinded; those tight coils of suffocation slowly loosening, the gun next to my bed and the urge to pull the trigger, distant. I want to think about something other than work or myself. And what's more, is that she makes me want to. That is what I find fascinating. "I'll be out of your way this afternoon. I won't be coming back."

"You're supposed to be working."

"I told you, I'm a great multi-tasker. Don't make it sound like a chore now." There's a long moment of silence where I begin to doubt myself. "I don't ask twice."

A nurse passes between us, greeting us both politely. When she is out of earshot, Fleur puts a hand on the doorframe and loosens her stance. "Okay." I hadn't thought past her accepting, and now I'm stumped when she cooly roams over my uniform, lingering at the tattoos on my neck. "But I don't eat in the dome."

"I'm good with take-away."

"What about park benches?"

My frown hurts. And then I realize - my shoulder doesn't.

* * *

Bringing the sandwich up to my mouth, I hesitate. Fleur told me the sandwich bread wasn't laced with peace serum but I'm always unsure. I glance over to her taking a bite and decide it should be okay. When she moves, it brings my attention away from the small pond we sit in front of, fish just viewable through the murky water skimming the surface on occasion.

"You have a lot of notes," she says distantly, peering out ahead of her. The papers sit like a wall between us. "I hope Amity cracked up to what it was meant to be."

"Surprisingly, I haven't been shocked by anything. It's not my first time here, it's just been a while." Tugging at my collar, my body is screaming for its daily dose.

She picks a piece of bread and throws it into the water. "Amity are good people. I like the fact that we are out of the loop with the other factions. I even believe the Factionless view us differently. We don't get harassed by them as much as I hear from the others."

"If you're digging for what I'm writing about, don't worry. I'm not aware of any changes apart from basics happening here." Scowling, I take another bite, sitting further back and throwing a leg out while the nuisance pain strikes with a vengeance.

"I'm not digging." She's quiet as she chews. "Can I read them?"

I snort, kicking at the dirt with my outstretched leg. "No." Rolling my shoulder, I shove the last piece of sandwich in my mouth and sit up, putting my elbows on my knees.

"Can I see?"

"I told you, no."

"Not the notes, where you have pain."

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I'm irritated and fidgeting, trying not to show any expression on my face. "My shoulder. It's nothing. Unless you want me to take my clothes off for any other reason?" I smirk over at her.

"If that were the case, I'd ask you."

"Mysterious and blunt, what a powerful personality," I say.

"I could say the same for you… So, you won't show me anything? Not your writing, not your scars, nor tell me what you are thinking?" There's a smile to her voice.

"Why don't you tell me what you're thinking instead?" I brush her off, reaching for my bottle of water and unscrewing the lid.

"Where is the fun in that? _And_ , you wanted to have lunch with me."

I forgot I have a kink for inflicting torture upon myself. "You wouldn't like me all that much if you really knew my thoughts." Taking a long chug of my water, my hand quakes.

"Who says I like you at all?" She smiles mischievously when I glance over to her which tells me the exact opposite.

"For one, you're still sitting here, asking me passive questions, and eating a dry sandwich. For two," my lips rise up all on their own. "You're trying to trick me into taking my clothes off." She merely bursts out laughing, and it's contagious.

Clicking her tongue after her laughter filters out, she sighs softly. "I'm thinking you _should_ take your jacket off."

"So, I was right?" I grin gleefully, feeling a bit lightheaded from laughing, which is weird because I can't remember the last time I did.

"Partly." She stands up and I watch her critically, rounding the bench to stand behind me.

"Which part?" I ask, her hands still stained with henna distracting me when they grip my shoulder, the smell of faint perfume, the pale underside of her arm seeming so delicate. She squeezes, kneading into my neck and it's hard for me to relax. It's like feeling constricted, bugs crawling up the skin of my legs. I want to stand up and repel away, instead, I opt to just turn my head and shrug her off. "Don't."

"I was only trying to help." Dejectedly, she clasps her hands, the wind kicking up the skirt of her dress, her hair swaying in the breeze. "I should have asked. Maybe I've been in Amity too long."

My laugh sounds somewhat condescending, yet it's anything but. "I say that to myself about Dauntless." Putting a hand through the shaved part of my hair, I'm starting to feel like a cunt.

"Is it because… there is someone in Dauntless waiting for you?"

"It's because," I begin, standing up and facing her with the bench as a wedge between us. "It's," I exhale sharply, instinctively lifting a hand up to feel the pill bottle inside my jacket. The job I do; only the other night putting a bullet between a sixteen-year-olds eyes, the screams, the blood on my hands. "I'm not worth helping," I finally finish. "I'm a dangerous man." Fleur's eyes flash between mine, the crevice of a frown between her two neat eyebrows. "I'm not looking…" I stammer for the first time in a very long while. "I don't want or need sympathy."

Fleur crosses her arms and forces a smile, one that does falter. "If you're ever going to change your mind…" she trails off, gazing back up the path. She gets up, shaking her head. Brushing past me, she says, "You know what? Don't even bother."

I scoff to myself in surprise as I listen to her footsteps fading away, popping the pills and swallow. I snort humorously - who does she even think she is? "I'm not bothering, don't worry," I say to no one in particular, feeling like a jackass nonetheless.

* * *

"Thank you, Eric, for all the hard work you have put in over the last two days," Johanna shakes my hand. Hard work? She should try getting from one side of the Pit to the other on a Friday night.

Joe is next, shaking enthusiastically, and I hope to damn god I never see any of them again. "It's been a real pleasure," he tells me. "It helps to make us feel a part of the city we live in, though we are so far out of touch."

"That's great." I whack his shoulder hard and turn my back on him, looking to Jimmy behind me. "You ready? He nods and jumps up into the truck, leaving me the window seat. As the truck starts, I keep my eyes out to the front, but I know I'm going to be catching glimpses of red for days - whether that is on my hands, or of Her skirt.

* * *

Pulling up to the Lot in Dauntless brings a weight upon my shoulders, namely - my bad shoulder as I roll it out. I was hardly expecting a welcoming party, so to see the one lone man, bringing his arms up in a huge gesture towards himself, is somewhat of a surprise. Frank obviously couldn't wait for me to get back.

When the engine dies and I hop down, he strolls over with his trench coat open, a massive grin that he's known for. "My boy!" he exclaims loudly over the emptying of the truck, man-hugging me and patting my back like it's been years. "Where the hell have you been? I've been calling."

"I haven't looked at my phone since the reception went. I'll turn it on tonight," I say, just as Jimmy tiredly steps to my side.

"How was the honeymoon?" Frank laughs, greeting Jimmy in the same fashion.

Smirking, I peer at Jim. "There was a lot of honey."

"Is that so?" Frank winks before his expression turns serious. "Eric, we gotta talk. Now." Suddenly thinking of Max, something ice-cold drops down my back. "You be on your way, Jim." Corralling me away from the truck, there is a shift in his stance; a lowering of his head, but shoulders stiff, glancing around us. "If I'd have known about Amity, there were a few things I could've got you to do - check out for me, while you were there."

"It was a fast arrangement. I didn't know until an hour before and I had things to organize."

"I get that." He pulls out a cigarette and offers me one, which I take. He waits for the people to filter out of the lot before speaking again, keeping his voice low. "This is more of a personal thing. None of the other boys know."

I laugh sardonically. "You got secret kids you're not telling me about?"

"No, man." He smacks my arm. "I got family in Amity."

I stare blankly at him for a long moment. "You have family... in Amity? Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not," he assures, taking a long drag. "And family as in just _one_ family member…. I hope. Kind of a sweet-sour subject, so if you'd humor me a little bit of low judgment that would be great."

"What about them?" I'm growing bored already of his long-ass, splintered sentence structures.

"I want to know how my little flower is doing." I zone out instantly, thinking of Her. The waves in my brain buzz, my ears ringing. "She won't speak to me. I get a very brief message from a nobody that goes out there on security turnovers. I tried calling you, boy. And this is why."

My head begins to throb, specifically over my eyes. I rub my eyebrows frantically, feigning tiredness. "She?" Swallowing, my throat has gone dry, and my gut hasn't caught up with my mind. "You could have sent an email, that would've got to me."

"You know I prefer face to face or voice to voice for professional purposes. And she, as in, my half-sister." He runs a hand through his dark hair, flicking his cigarette. "It's a real long story. Daddy had a side-chick. Side-chick has baby. Sister goes Dauntless to Amity."

"Why?" I cough suddenly, making Frank laugh. "Why have you never told me?"

"No reason to. You know what I said in the past, right? About people finding connections and…" he trails off distantly, staring over at the truck. "...weaknesses. It's always used against you." He grips my shoulder, meeting my eye. "Are you going back to Amity?"

"I don't intend to. But then, I haven't seen Max. And I won't know anything until tomorrow. Got some work to do at home to get this finished."

"So, you're not heading out with us tonight?"

I shrug, "Duty calls," knocking his hand from my shoulder.

"You get the word you're visiting Amity again, you tell me, brother. I mean it." Come to think of it, as I face him, he looks like he hasn't slept in days. I wonder if this is what Max had seen in me the night before he sent me to Amity. "Let's get out of here, it's freezing. Balls are going to drop off…" He begins to walk away, towards the parking lot's steel door. "You up for a beer?"

I'm still far behind, hands shoved into my pockets, following a crack in the ground before letting my head tilt up, trying to seem impassive. "What's her name?" My voice cuts through the chilled air, and Frank hesitates for the best part of several seconds, holding the door open, one foot in, one foot out, like my mind and loyalties. Maybe a sign, an unconscious sign…

"Fleur," he says. Slowly, he points inside. "Beer?"

"No. Got work to do," I say.

"Hm, work." He pouts for a moment, seemingly thinking of talking back but eventually just nods. "I'll catch you tomorrow morning then."

* * *

My holdall is dumped the moment I set foot inside the door, slamming it shut behind me, looking at the pitiful excuse of the place I call home. It's far from the freedom of Amity; a dungeon, a place where my most decrepit thoughts linger, hitting me straight in the face.

I pace a few times up and down, past the kitchen island, eyeing up my laptop on the end. The moment I turn it on I know the emails will come flooding in, my initiate reports long and boring. But what I can also do is search the database through my home laptop, using the network accessed by senior members, like myself, Max, Frank…

Running a hand down my face, the realization of spending almost half a day with Frank's sister; seeing her naked, lusting after her, trying my hand at flirting, is wrong. If he found out…

The thought strikes me that perhaps someone saw me with her. That maybe an informant will give their information to Frank. My part was totally innocent. I didn't know who she was, and now her first reaction to me makes sense. He called her Flower, a nickname. I asked her about the meaning of it and her mood dampened quickly.

She's hiding in Amity from him. No contact, he said. No contact on _her_ behalf means she knows more than she lets on about Dauntless, about Frank. She knows things about Frank that could be dangerous.

Was Frank also fobbing me off about his whole weaknesses speech? We all have family. We all come from somewhere. So why would he call it a weakness? I don't have attachments, but most of the other guys do. So why does that make Frank hold this secret?

The laptop is open and I've perched myself in front of it without being completely conscious of it. I type in the passwords angrily, scorning myself. I should have seen it. I should have known.

The Dauntless logo is at the top right of the page, a search bar to place a name or location in the middle. I don't know her second name, I doubt it will be Frank's. Fleur and Amity are all I have.

It takes a minute to load while I chew my thumbnail, propping my arms up on the counter. Suddenly the information springs up, her picture - that same mysterious, lost appearance that had me so caught up. Her name, Fleur Morey, Amity identification: 1247745, DOB: July 7th, making her twenty-five, seven years younger than Frank. Other than that, her information is basic. But at least she is legit. Though, there are no specifics on family.

With no email or number, she really has cut herself off from Frank.

I can't admit to him that I met her because that opportunity had escaped me the moment he told me her name and I stared back blankly. I should have mentioned it then, but I didn't, and logically, I'm unsure of why.

My phone buzzes loudly, snapping me out of my trance-like state. Grabbing it from my pocket and putting it to my ear, Max talks first. " _Eric, I hear you've returned. Because I haven't seen you I guess you've gone back to finish up the report on Amity? - And that, because you answered your phone, you're not out with Frank_?"

"I'm just going over the notes," I lie, with the picture of Fleur staring back at me. It makes me feel a little creepy, stalking her after only recently departing, but it's within good reason. "I'll have it done tonight."

" _Other than that_?"

I log out, clicking off the database. "Everything was… fine."

Max sighs down the phone. " _No hard feelings for sending you out there_?"

"You know me, I'm one for expressing myself quite clearly."

He chuckles to himself. " _See you at the morning meeting_." He ends the call without my reply; the light dying on the face of the phone when I put it on the counter, leaving me to sit here in an eerie silence. Alone again.

* * *

Entering into the boardroom for our usual meeting, I take a seat next to Frank. Though, he's quiet. Too quiet. Barely glancing my way with his legs crossed and watching his own foot bounce impatiently on his knee.

Max is up front, standing authoritatively, the group waiting. "Eric has returned from Amity with a very fine report. It's believed from the conditions he was met with, that the holding area they have within Amity is in poor condition along with any crime-log or activity, which makes it hard in general for Dauntless to operate." Frank's burning stare is at the side of my face but I ignore him, acting like I'm too enthralled with this speech. "He's advised a permanent fixture. Someone to be named head of the project." A woman at the front that's always hovering around Max looks over her shoulder at me and I stare her out until she ducks away. "As _we_ are prominent members of Dauntless, I think this matter should be discussed between us. A decision will be made today."

Frank taps my leg. "You missed out last night," he whispers, watching Max carefully. "Two detailed hits sent to Jeanine, deviating Max. She's dealing with the backlash. Heath banged his long lost love, Pepper. And Jimmy whitied."

Running my tongue along every individual tooth helps to stop my mouth from getting away from me. For the first time, when I glance at Frank, he irritates the living shit out of me. The nonsense he drawls seeming hardly thought-provoking. I couldn't care less, but find myself pondering over whether Jimmy is alright or not.

Flexing my hands out, Frank taps me again, and this time I painfully clamp my eyes shut. Maybe Fleur was right, my lack of restraint is terrible. "I want you in on tonight's," he tells me.

I turn my head and look him up and down slowly. "I'll be in on tonight's if I'm not busy. Since when did you feel the need to tell me what I'm doing?" His eyes glint, his top lip quirking into more of a snarl than a smirk. "I don't take orders from you."

"Not yet," he smiles fully, motioning with his head towards Max. "But maybe someday you will."

"Then that'll be the day."

"Eric!" Max's voice booms suddenly, stopping me and Frank from sneering at each other. Neither of us had heard him calling me for the last couple of minutes, and that the room is quiet. "Eric, this entire boardroom is in favor of you representing Dauntless for Amity. I'm sure, as you have been once already, Johanna would be very pleased with your presence."

"Thrilled," I say, and Frank leans back with a scoff in his chair.

"You start immediately. Arrangements should be made for next week." Max nods to the woman who is his insufferable shadow, handing her some papers. "Meeting dismissed." The room moves except for me and Frank.

"I saw this coming," Frank begins, sounding somewhat disappointed. "You're going to be fucking off to Amity every week. It's going to be occupying all your time."

"Get off my back." I go to stand but he grips my arm, my hand whipping back to his wrist, a defensive maneuver. "You really want to do this?"

"No, but do you?"

"Where exactly are you going with this?" I ask, shoving his arm away and flexing my shoulder. "You've been a little bitch all morning."

"There's something bothering me about you and I can't figure out what it is. Maybe it's just me. But I'll tell you what I'm thinking, we've always been straight with each other, haven't we?" He purposely smiles with all teeth. "I'm doubting how well you'll hold up with what's in store for Max. You know, last night was the first time you put us aside for work?"

"I'm doing my job. The job comes first." That may be the first time I've said that.

" _We_ come first. Or have you already forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten anything, but this is new. You're like a bitter wife I left behind." Frank's never vocalized what comes first, it's always been my guess, but right now I know he's trying to lay it on, trying to break information from me. He's looking for a way in, to stab the knife and twist it until I submit. "We are Leaders of a faction."

"You're also a sick man. A sick man who relies on medication. _That_ was the deal. If you can't turn up, you get turned out. And that ain't pretty. Tonight, Eric."

My eye twitches, casting a glare at him, one that would make any other person back down, but not Frank. "Fuck you," rumbles out of my chest without any conceivable thought. "Fuck you. That was low - even for you." As I stand up, my attention is drawn to a person by the door, leaning up against it - Leroy. He's heard the tail end of our conversation, it's written all over his face.

My back is so stiff, my muscles screaming to inflict pain on the next poor bastard. But they won't get the better of me. As I get to him, he doesn't move and I purposefully stop, staring coldly, unspeaking. I suddenly fake a large step towards him, causing him to jolt back in surprise and hit the frame. "Pussy," I say with a smirk.

* * *

Heath keeps looking over from the seat next to me in the back of the car. This confirms he probably only knows partly of what's happening. - Or maybe it's just the pissed off look on my face.

Leroy drives, and it's Candor we are visiting, the great building in front of us. My mood is sour. I couldn't care less, and I'm not enjoying being in Leroy's or Frank's company. "Leroy should take this one," I say as the car stops, copying him from the night he elected Jimmy.

"We all go," Frank frowns back at me.

"Wow, what a different attitude." I yank on the handle of the door and open it, slamming it shut behind me. They are whispering in there in their few spare seconds and I don't doubt it's about my behavior. But I will not be told what to do. And I will act the cunt as much as I fucking want.

Hey, after all, Frank wanted me here tonight. Specifically tonight. And I'm going to make him regret it.

Tapping the window, I smile at Leroy. "Come on, you're not backing out now, are you? I could really do with shooting some innocents again tonight. We tend to have a knack for it. _Get's me off_ ," I snarl the last part with a fake grin at his level in the window.

"Cut the shit, Eric," Frank snaps as he emerges from the vehicle, lighting a cigarette. He inhales heavily and closes his eyes before he speaks. "Two refusements to pay tonight. You know the deal."

We know the deal. The hand I've been dealt is bullshit.

* * *

 _"_ _Please, please, please. I'll do anything. I don't have the points right now. There must be something?" The woman begged. Leroy glanced over to Frank while I stood back with Heath with a gun to her husband's head. "The medicine is for me, not him." None of us moved, nor acknowledged her at first until Frank breathed in and crouched down to her level on the floor where she sat pleading on her knees in front of Leroy._

 _"_ _You get one warning, sweetie," Frank said, pushing back some of her hair. The husband moved and I pressed the barrel hard onto his forehead. His eyes met mine, and if only he knew how hard it was in that moment to keep myself passive. I could see the hate boiling under his surface. He would kill me now if he could. Even if the most harmless man was pushed hard enough, they will kill. "Then you get us at your door for your last chance. ...And you still can't pay up." He shook his head for dramatics. "What are we supposed to do?"_

 _"_ _Please," she sobbed._

 _"_ _She has a beautiful mouth," Leroy spoke quietly. My eyes slid from the horror in her husbands towards Leroy getting a little closer to her. There was something different, something dark that I'd neither heard nor seen before. Leroy and Frank were pretty close, but from my new understanding, because they were just as sick as each other. Me and Frank had a different relationship - we used our heads._

 _"_ _Indeed she has," Frank said, letting a thumb slip across her lower lip._

 _I knew what I needed to do._

"Eric, you okay there?" Max asks, weaving behind his desk with a coffee. "You zoned out." I feel cold all over, peering out towards the window.

 _I pulled the trigger. The backlash of warm blood splattered across my face from point-blank range._

My hand twitches with the noise of the gun in my memory and I whip my head back to Max. "What were you saying?"

 _"_ _What the fuck, Eric?!" Frank called out, the husband's body slumping on the floor in front of me. Frank stumbled back and Leroy jumped to the side as I swung my gun towards the woman. She screamed, momentarily. But it was for the best._

I grip my hands together, blinking rapidly. Max seems to watch me closely for a minute, sipping his coffee. "Did you want one?" He gestures with the cup and I shake my head. "I have to admit, I'm impressed with the work you did. It's detailed - can tell it's your own words, of course," he chuckles. "You haven't lost it."

 _"_ _He moved," my voice droned, putting an end to the night._

Raising my eyebrow, all I can think is, 'Really? Because I feel like I've lost my damn mind.'

"You seem to be taking the thought of representing the adjustments in Amity pretty well."

"Initiation is ending. I need something to focus on." My thumbs twirl around each other. I need to stop this. I'm being too obvious.

"I'm glad you think so."

"Don't criticize me," I say.

He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. "I'm giving you full authoritative permission on this. Your word is as good as mine. I'll let all relevant parties know. But just…" He hesitates, rolling his lips to grimace. "Just don't let me down." He scoffs and turns in his chair more to the side. "I know I'm giving myself grief, having to try and coerce Frank into listening to a damn word I say. I was hoping I could work on him. Perhaps try and build a better relationship, if only for work."

"Good luck with that."

Max smiles somewhat then goes into a drawer next to him. "Radio, because the reception gives me a headache out there."

"Add that to the long list of improvements," I scoff sarcastically.

"I'm pretty sure the folk out there make sure to keep it that way."

I sigh tiredly. "They are interesting." The vow I told myself, to never linger in the land of regret, comes two-fold. The words I spoke aloud, saying I didn't want sympathy, or that I couldn't be helped were far from the truth. At the time, my back bristled and I responded the only way I knew how. But I brought back that sensitivity from Amity. The book my father wrote, viewing a relaxed life, the touch of someone who cared, which couldn't gain anything from me, has ignited something. The gun in my mouth seems far away. The will to live harsher. Questioning everything that only a week ago I was passionate about.

The words are out before I can stop them, "Be careful with Frank. He's a loose cannon at the best of times." Standing up quickly, I take the radio, heading for the door.

"And like you ain't?" he smiles. But if he's smart, he'll understand.

* * *

For the next few days, my life consisted of paperwork leading up to the Amity visit and arranging a new schedule, solidifying that the quota is capable between our security. In the night, I found myself just on simple visitations - premier warnings. Whether I was purposefully back seated or not, I didn't focus on it. But I did see them afterward, joining them in the Pit. Though, it did feel like there was a distance between us. How they kept themselves to one side and I sat with Jim or Heath. My part as top dog in our faux brotherhood was shifting. I'm not blind to it. The question was, did I care?

...Not if my pain medication still fell into my hand every week.

That all fades into the background when my second official visit to Amity arrives. This time it will take me a few days, three to four to sort out how well this will work. And if what they say is true - that there isn't a lot of problems with criminal activity or suspicious behavior. Because not only do I want to know why - so I can study it - but also if there is some backhanded business taking place. I have to say, a straggled bunch of factionless, fed and watered, then packed off into the sunrise sounds a little far-fetched.

The trucks are loaded, three to be precise, out in the Lot, ready for departure. I'm opening the cab door, checking whether I have my radio when I hear Frank call my name. I turn and he gestures to himself as per usual, like I should be in awe at the sight of him and says, "What's up?"

Tightening my belt around my waist, I tap the knife on my leg to make sure it's secure. "What is it?" I ask him, hardly paying attention while he holds the door for me.

"Shit's been crazy busy. With the whole…" he rolls a hand out, saying, "Jeanine thing," quietly. "I'm hoping when you get back we'll have more of a chance to talk."

"Yeah," I say unenthusiastically. "I'll be gone a few days."

"Yeah, yeah. That's cool." He crosses his arms and looks shifty, so I pause, turning to face him. "Look, er... You remember what we talked about before? About family?"

"Oh yeah, a secret sister."

He smiles and it drops quickly. "Can you find her? See what's going on? How's she's doing?"

"Why don't you go to Amity when you next get the chance?" I brush him off.

Frank laughs. "She'd probably shoot me on sight."

My eyes narrow in suspicion. "Don't get along?"

"Brotherly-sisterly love. You know, that old cliche."

I don't believe a word of it, clambering up into the cab as he still stands with the door wide open. "I won't go intentionally looking. But if I bump into her…"

"As long as that's the only bumping you're doing," he subtlety warns me. It's a normal tone, but I know he means it. He salutes, letting the door close.

When the engine starts and we pull off, I watch him in the side mirror, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time viewing him torn or a little lost at the sight of us trundling towards his precious Fleur. I can't help but smile to myself. And hope, that when I get back Max is still around.

* * *

It's late afternoon by the time we arrive and have the equipment unpacked. Johanna stands at a distance for the most part with a group of people, some of the Amity getting involved and helping. I am designated the same cabin as before, refusing the assistance of Joe quickly, assuring him I'm not stupid and can remember from the last instance.

We are offered a long table at dinner, and this time it's quite riveting to see the plentiful uniforms of black swarming around the pinks and yellows. With no tag-along with me, I'm left alone, able to eat without a continuous droning in my ear. I've had my painkillers in advance, a full stomach, for once feeling pretty alert to the usual aches as the outside light fades fast with the evening.

Taking a sip of water, I look between the rows of tables, conscious of the fact that I'm not being watched, not by anyone, not like I am in Dauntless.

A wry smile begins to form across my face when I see Fleur enter. Avoiding the rows of tables, she grabs the last dregs of food from the lineup. She doesn't wear red, but something pale orange. Whatever it is, it's hideous.

Only when she steps through the archway on her exit do I get to my feet, following in pursuit. I know she knows something. She knows about what Frank does, she has to. And she's heightened my sense of curiosity.

She takes the main path lit by solar paneled lights while I opt for the cover of darkness. She's loud and uncaring when she walks, not the slightest clue I'm following. I round the back of the cabins as it merges into the forest, catching glimpses of her, even when she stops and taps something on her leg. Fleur looks behind her this time but continues on.

There is a bend in the path, narrowing next to a dark and unoccupied cabin, and I target that as my point of contact. Stepping onto the path, she suddenly takes a left, past a tree I hadn't thought about.

I curse softly, I've lost her. But I still get to the tree, running along one of these shit built sheds.

My reactions are based on instinct as suddenly an arm with the knife darts out and a little hand tries perilously to grab my jacket. The knife clatters to the ground after a mere tap to the soft underside of the wrist, disarming Fleur quickly. I'm able to pull the balled fist from my jacket, spinning her and restraining it behind her back as her chest hits the side of a building.

"Careful. You'll hurt yourself," I hiss, listening to her breathing heavy.

"Why are you following me?"

With her hair in a ponytail, I can see the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the slope to her shoulder and down, leaning purposefully into her. "Now, why is an Amity so jumpy?" I ask sardonically. "So frightened?" I loosen my grip and spin her to face me, pushing back on one of her shoulders to keep her in place.

"How's my little flower doing?" Her eyes widen, and I can't help the one-sided smirk on my lips as I _finally_ get a reaction.


End file.
